


Silver Dress

by Josephine_221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform, cuteness, mollock, morgue work, sherlock is sly, slightly jelly sherlock, st barts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josephine_221B/pseuds/Josephine_221B
Summary: Molly is at St Bart’s when a Mr Sherlock Holmes waltzed in and makes a deduction too far for Molly’s taste.





	Silver Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Sup killas, I decided to write a little one shot of my favorite couple! 
> 
> If anyone is OOC or wacky, just tell me and I’ll improve for the future.

Molly held her gloved hand above the collarbone of the murder victim before her, pulling the skin taut. Her scalpel pushed through the cold skin, and she slowly dragged it down the length of the woman's torso. The skin flayed at the touch of the metal tool, Molly pursed her lips for a moment. She began to look into the body of the woman, moving aside different annoying veins or nerves that got in her way. 

"An alcoholic, eh?" Molly murmured as she began to gently cut the liver from her.

"Of course she's an alcoholic, have you looked at the state of her eyes? Bloodshot. No one does that before they die purposefully. She was caught while she had booze in her system. Look at her teeth, yellow. Her mouth smells like the entirety of Scotland,"

Molly offered a tight lipped smile, "Sherlock, what brings you here?" She hadn't heard him enter all it, it was a bit of a surprise when she heard him speak. Nonetheless, Sherlock usually held the element of surprise in any discussion he joined. 

"I need to look at Roberts." He stated clearly. His blue eyes were round and bright, shocking against the dark of his clothes. Molly could stare into them all day, watching the waves gently roll into his pupils only to dive into the next sea. She closed her own eyes, opening them harshly to focus on Sherlock.

"I'm afraid I'm not the pathologist performing the autopsy on Mr. Roberts," Molly said. "I believe that would be Yasmine Paulstine."

"Your boss is going to text you any minute to inform you that Paulstine is not going to make it to work today so you will be doing the body of Roberts," Sherlock stated simply.

Ping.

Molly glanced at the silver phone lying on the table next to her tools and pursed her lips.

"You bastard," she said.

"But I'm your bastard."

Her cheeks became pink and she felt her ears turn a similar shade. Based on Sherlock's demeanor and the way he said that sentence, Molly assumed he did not mean it the way it came out. While the idea of him being hers, she knew that wasn't what the sociopathic consulting detective of Scotland Yard meant behind his words. Sherlock seemed completely oblivious to the rush of emotions he had thrust upon Molly and simply waited for her to work on Roberts.

Molly took a sigh, shaking away the thoughts of Sherlock and her to focus on the deceased woman before her. "I can take a look on Roberts in about an hour, I've already opened Ms. Sishka, I cannot let her sit here." 

Sherlock nodded. 

Molly went for her scalpel again, slowly sawing at the strings of flesh connecting the liver to the rest of the body. When she released the saggy and strangely deformed organ from the body, she placed it in another tray to examine later. 

"May I look at the liver?" Sherlock's voice broke through the quiet and Molly jumped. She'd thought he had gone, though in true Sherlock fashion he had not. 

"I can't let you tamper with evidence, Sherlock."

"I'm apart of Scotland Yard! How am I tampering?" Sherlock was confused and rather angry at the lack of evidence Molly was giving him.

"I'm sorry, I cannot allow it."

Silence hung through the air like a laundry string, bits of clothes and awkward tension dangling at various parts of the string desperate to hold on. Molly began to work her way towards the woman's heart, curious to see if the heart had any injuries. From the state of it, there seemed to be a state of relative normalality. There were no signs of any heart diseases or utter failure in general. Molly knew the woman had a stab to the back, but she was curious if she died from blood loss or some other reason first. Many people automatically assume that it is blood loss, though that isn't always the first way someone who is stabbed can die. 

"You wore a silver dress last night," Sherlock broke the silence with his words. Molly contained a groan, all she wanted to do was study the victim. "It looked quite nice on you, you should wear silver more often. It complimented your hair."

"How did you know?" 

"Your neck has flakes of glitter or some form of dust commonly found on dresses, indicating the dress not only wrapped round your neck but you wore it for a while considering the amount spread across your neck. They are all silver, showing the dress is of a silver or white tone to it. I only knew it was a dress because I saw the same one outside of Bloomingdales on my way to Scotland Yard two weeks ago, they had a huge sale. Someone like you wouldn't waste money on frivolous things unless it came for a cheaper price. I deduced from the style of the dress and your body type, the two would work very well together. I also concluded that you did not leave whatever place you went alone last night as you keep leaning to your right leg as you often do when sore if you know what I mean. Did I miss something?"

Molly's mouth dipped slightly, she hadn't expected a deduction. The fact he was able to even tell that she had hooked up was incredibly impressive. 

"And you got all of that, by the glitter on my neck and the tilt on my foot?" Molly was completely aghast. He had done impressive things before but she had never thought that he had looked that closely into her person before.

Sherlock nodded. "The dress was quite pretty, clinging to your body. You have many curves for the dress to cling to so I figured it would only accentuate those things. The dress was also very low cut so I find it impossible to think a man wouldn't approach you at some point in the night." 

Molly bent her wrist and placed the back of it on her hip to avoid bodily fluids. "I thought my breasts were rather small according to you." 

Sherlock looked to the floor, clearly embarrassed and Molly wondered how. It's not like she had made him say those things, shouldn't the great Sherlock Holmes be proud at the Christmas party and all the correct deductions he had made? He had apologized, which was kind enough. Molly always assumed he only apologized to make her feel better and clear his image in front of those he cared for. He was always making comments like that and Molly was proud she had stood up to him in her own way. Had he genuinely meant his apology? Now her brain tried to think through the past night and see if his apology was his own.

"Your breasts and lips are perfectly fine, Molly. Any man would be lucky to," his breath hitched and Molly cocked an eyebrow. "Never mind, the point is I was very wrong that night. Do you forgive me?"

Molly cleared her throat, feeling it start to clamp with emotion. "Yes Sherlock, I forgive you."

"Thank you." Sherlock murmured loud enough for her to hear. 

They stood in a sort of peaceful silence as Molly wrapped up the autopsy. She placed the heart, liver, and left kidney into separate jars to examine at later dates with fluids to preserve them. 

"Roll in Roberts as I go to the loo," Molly informed Sherlock.

...

Sherlock watched Molly dart from the sliding door of the morgue down the hallway. He chewed on the right side of his cheek, thinking on the prior conversation. Sherlock knew he had apologized but it never occurred to him until then if she forgave him. 

His curls clouded over an eye and he shook his head. Sherlock went to the door with Roberts' body and began to remove him. He had a corpse below him, yet he couldn't stop thinking of Molly Hooper. She had been a colleague of his for years, their friendship had lasted forever in his eyes. He hadn't really batted an eye at her until his falsified fall off of Bart's which she had helped orchestrate. Every time he saw her, her brown hair with a tint of a natural red or her dark eyes that looked like they came straight from an oil painting, he got a feeling in him. It was never one he could explain. It always started small, like a feeling of a freshly created bruise along your abdomen. Then it began to grow sore, like a bruise. After a few minutes in her presence, the soreness evolved to a gentle heat. His body often betrayed him around her. His tongue would become lazy, allowing free things to slip he did not intend too. She always looked so calm and collected, so natural in such a strange environment for most. Her hair was pulled in Dutch braids today, a first of her many hairstyles. She just had on a simple white t shirt with her blue overcoat underneath the lab coat. 

The glitter was subtle, rubbed into her skin by presumably sweat. Sherlock gritted his teeth at the possibility that it was in her skin by another man having his way with her. Sherlock despised the fact that Molly had one night stands. It wasn't a very common thing for her, but he found the idea of her with another man revolting and repelling. His fists would clench and he'd have a desire to hug or kiss her at the same time.

Molly Hooper was beautiful in her own way, shy and soft. She was strong despite the years it took for her confrontational skills to develop. Sherlock found her humanity a breath of fresh air. John always wanted to remind him of the fact that he acted inhumane, but Molly never commented. She understood and acted the same way she would around anyone else. He had eventually realized her feelings for him, but she never acted strange around him. Molly wouldn't change for a man she liked and Sherlock liked that. While she did dress up occasionally or whatever, she did usually stick to her roots as Molly Hooper. 

"What can we deduce about Mr. Roberts then?" Molly said as she walked in, going to the box of plastic gloves on the side wall. She strapped some onto her hands and passed a pair to Sherlock so he could examine alongside her. She knew that she was not supposed to, but she figured that if he did it under her supervision there should be no issue. If he had done the liver, she couldn't have done the autopsy and watched him at the same time.

"He's been married twice before, each ending in an ugly divorce based on the tattoos, one on either arm. He's clearly tried to get both removed though but to no avail based on the smudged ink and burn marks on the eldest one. His fingernails are dirty and his right hand is slightly swollen, indicating that he was probably working in labor. Probably a construction job, but based on the level of dirt and the coloring I think it could be coal. He is a miner who's been working for at least ten years based on the pale of his skin and how easily he tans due to how rarely he is exposed to the sun. Due to his career, he probably doesn't get out much and doesn't have much money to his name. I have already looked into his ex wives, both of which left him for another man so they had no possible motive for the murder. He was shot with a pistol held directly to the chest otherwise the exit wound would not have been so large. Who would want to hurt him? That is the question. He had no money for any to inherit and sees no one besides his coworkers. Potentially another miner could have killed him, but it seems unlikely. He's quiet, doesn't socialize much with other people. When he does, he is shy. He would have nothing to aggravate another miner into killing him. Where was his body found again?"

"Outside Scotland Yard this morning, he'd been dead for seven hours but had been killed on the spot. It's assumed the killer was able to get in a blind spot of the CCTV, we have footage of Roberts going down but not the killer." Molly answer swiftly, trying to keep her amazement to herself. He spoke so quickly it was a shock to her that his brain functioned at all. She'd just about explode if hers went at half the speed. 

Sherlock smiled, he already knew this but wanted to hear her speak like a true pathologist. She began to slice open the cadaver. The small scalpel fell into the open flesh, causing Molly to say, "Buggers, why you always doing that?"

"Molly, would you like to have coffee sometime?" He felt his tongue begin to swell, his throat close as emotions tried to crawl their way through his body. It was rare he ever acted upon his heart and felt like Molly deserved to know he cared. Fear of rejection came into his head, taunting him with a large Vegas style sign of insults hurled at him. 

Molly looked up at him, his sharp cheekbones and raven hair caught her attention immediately. The emotion in his eye was a rare one she was not used to. She thought back to the phone call and prayed this wasn't another one of his tricks.

"Sherlock, I'm not one for you to toy with," She said as cleaned her scalpel from the bodily fluids. 

"Molly, this isn't another phone call. This is me asking if you would like to meet me outside of our professional careers to chat."

"As a date?"

"I'd prefer it that way."

Molly smiles sheepishly, staring at Roberts before looking up to the beautiful man. "I'd love to."

Sherlock bent down to kiss Molly's cheek, whispering the address of the shop and time before preparing to leave. Before he got to the door, Molly called out, "don't you watch to examine the body?"

Sherlock gave a broad smile, "I solved that hours ago. I just wanted to talk to you. Afternoon,"


End file.
